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I Abandoned My Plans. I Had No Plans.

Some men are so lazy

they should be revered as saints.

Not improved. Not working.

No lift or tilt.

Trying to put on one sock

in the morning they are one man.

A centipede of trouble.

He pretends

to be hit with a stick.

He looks at the world

as though it arrived in an airplane.

The new world’s new, quickening sun

taps the stadium whose retractable roof

pulls back till a single crow comes out,

sideways, slurring over the skyline and wires.

It lays out evidence and empty space:

A woman beside you sleeping. A little clerk

hurrying past like all the capitals of Europe.

Drowsy projectionist, the sun

does nothing but ticket the leaves.

Some men are so beautiful that their insides

are lined with the skin of lions,

with the narrow skin of birds.

With no help from me,

the names of ships, with

the teeth of mice, the overdue snow.

from There’s a Box in the Garage You Can Beat with a StickFind it in the library

Copyright © BOA Editions, Ltd 2013
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of BOA Editions LTD.

Published in Michael Teig Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

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